When Sleep Does Not Come

When it is 2:30 in the morning, when the rest of the world is sleeping but you have been awake since 11:30 after sleeping for 2 hours, what is there to do? In my little room in the motel, there are not a lot of choices. I have read. I have played solitaire. I have watched TV. Earlier. I think at 2:30 in the morning there would be little I would care to watch. So the screen of the TV remains dark.

Husband’s surgery will be Wednesday morning. We do not know the exact time yet. Morning. Friends will drive up to spend the day with me. Waiting. Worrying. Friends who are definitely the above and beyond type of friends. Tonight there is no need for me to stay awake. That will change nothing. But awake I am. Husband? Probably sleeping fitfully. He is worried although he does not say so. He makes comments, so I know. Offhand comments he would say is joking. But it’s not.

Today was difficult. Not today. Today has just begun. Yesterday was difficult. We know now that his fuzziness, his comprehension issues, his confusion, his shuffling walk can all be contributed to this mass on his brain. This large tumor that is an extension of the prostate cancer, the tumor that started in the skull bone and grew inward, crowding the brain. Yesterday, that disorientation, that confusion were worse. Strange – he is being given a steroid medication to help reduce the inflammation, help control the swelling of the mass. But he was just not with it yesterday. We tried walking the halls a bit, but he did not steer well. He veered. He stopped. He needed prompting to move again. Getting him into bed was a challenge. He seemed unable to move his body as it needed to be moved to get into the bed in a proper position. I do not know. Paralyzed by fear? Is that real? I don’t know.

There is a rule about doctors in the hospitals. At least as it pertains to me, there is a rule. When I am there, the doctor will not be. I waited the day of Friday after we got there, till about 7:00. After 7:00 I would expect the doctor to be at home. Not at the hospital. So I left, to pick up something for dinner. When I was in the store, that’s when the oncologist appeared for his consult. At least he and I talked on the phone, so I know he was a man with a voice, although I do not know his face. The surgeon? He was there before I arrived Friday. His PA was there Saturday and Sunday and I did see him. The rule does not apply to PAs, evidently. The surgeon was there yesterday morning as I was driving to the hospital. Driving, so I could not answer my phone, and by the time I got to the parking lot and could call back, he was gone. He is a sprite. He flits in and out it seems. Tomorrow – this morning – I shall connect my earbuds to my phone so if a call comes I will not miss it. This morning I will go in earlier. This morning, the doctor will not come in. That’s how that works.

I think I must talk with his oncologist people at home. I think I must suggest that perhaps the doctor should sometimes talk with the spouse of the patient privately. Because had we had a private conversation, I would have talked about the confusion, the shuffling. I would have asked whether somehow the brain was being affected. Perhaps then the tumor would have been found more quickly. But shoulda coulda woulda won’t change a thing.

I have been buoyed by the support – my kids, my friends, my bloggy friends – it is all so appreciated and so important. One of you said that at times like this we can be sad that the rose has thorns, or we can be happy that the thorns have a rose. Was that you, Lisa? I cannot recall. But I choose to be happy that the thorns have a rose – not just one rose, but many roses.

It is a bad time, but still – I have enough – of everything but sleep this night.

Now I’ll share with you a couple of iPad photos – one of one of the hospital chapel walls and a couple of the views from one side of the hospital. And then I shall try sleep. One more time.